Let it continue, for the moment

As difficult as it is to watch and do nothing, you know that to put a stop to the contest now could be seen as favoritism to Lady Trina - and, it might even suggest that you doubt her skill and courage. What's more, it would put a stain on the entire tournament and potentially ruin the good spirits of the crowd; and as this is Elyssia's first public celebration, it would establish a precedent which could prove disastrous in the long run. It is among the hardest things you have ever done, but you **** yourself to remain seated and let the bout go on.

After several more minutes, Abdul's relentless attack finally seems to be taking its toll on him; his blows begin to come down slower, with less ****, and he pursues Trina around the ring perhaps a quarter-step slower than before. Still, Trina remains on the defensive - and you realize that she is conserving her energy even as Abdul expends his own, waiting for when the time is right...

Just then, Abdul allows his swordpoint to dip as he thrusts at her chest - and with lightning speed, Trina turns the tide, knocking his weapon aside and countering with a thrust of her own! But just as it seems she has taken the win, Abdul skips back and grabs the blade of her sword in his gauntleted hand, holding it tight as he rears back and delivers a kick to to Trina's gut. This time, you cannot help but leap from your chair, but before you can say anything, Trina crumples to the ground in a heap, her sword still clutched in Abdul's hand. She is disarmed; Abdul has won.

Once again, Kuranoma turns to you, and this time you do not need the translator to know that he asks once again whether the move was a legal one. Though it was a less than honorable move, the fact of the matter is that there is no rule against it... and so, you have **** but to indicate that Abdul has taken the victory. Sir Magnus, who should be declaring Abdul the winner, has instead stepped forward with rage in his posture, his hand halfway to where his own sword hilt sticks up over his left shoulder.

"Magnus!" you shout.

The huge Scotsman turns to you, and you catch a glimpse of the blood-thirst in his eyes, but it fades quickly. He bows his head stiffly, and with the anger coming through clearly in his voice, he shouts to the crowd, "Winner, by disarmament: Abdul Hai el-Anwar, Warrior of Al-Mansoura!"

The reaction of the crowd is subdued, at best; there is only scattered applause, almost overwhelmed by the mutterings among them. The Sultan is obviously vexed by the manner in which the bout concluded, but he knows his place as a guest in your kingdom; as you have said nothing, he holds his own tongue.

You take a step toward the circle, intending to help Trina to her feet, but she turns her head and sees you coming, and quickly shakes her head no. She is clearly in pain, clutching her gut and coughing hard, but you can understand why she must show no weakness and rise of her own accord.

Turning to Abdul, who seems uncaring at the reaction he has received, you swallow the anger in your throat and address him. "A duel well-fought, up until the very end," you say to him, and he blinks at your insinuation but reacts no further. "You have won the contest, Warrior of Al-Mansoura; the prize is yours."

Abdul removes his helm, and bows to you, his hands out at his sides. "I am honored, Your Majesty," he says. "But beyond the purse, I make a claim for the spoils of combat."

Trina has gained her feet, and walks stiffly to face Abdul, standing straight and erect even though you know it must be painful for her to do so. "And what tribute do you claim, Warrior?" Trina says to him, her voice steady. "The sword I wield this day is not my own, and it is but a tourney sword; if you wish to claim my weapon, I offer the sword I bear as Sworn Protector of the Crown."

You note that Trina has gallantly deflected attention away from your own tourney sword, and from the Iron Ring for that matter, as she would not wish to surrender either. Her own blade means a great deal to her, you know; it is the one she wore when she was sworn in as Kingsguard, and she has carried no other blade ever since except in tournament and the practice yard.

"It is not your sword I want."

"Then my armor, Warrior, though you would find it ill-fitting."

"I do not crave your armor either, Lady Trina. The demand I make is for the woman who wields the blade, and wears the steel. I claim you as my prize; as tribute to the victor, you will warm my sleeping-silks this night!"